


Metabolism

by WakingNightmares



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Food Deprivation, Gen, Homeless Theo Raeken, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Torture, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakingNightmares/pseuds/WakingNightmares
Summary: Shifters require near constant food.It was one of the first things the Dread Doctors had taught Theo as a kid. One of the most effective punishments they used.Withhold food from a shifter -any shifter, didn’t matter the breed, didn’t matter the mutt -and two things happened. Neither was good.





	1. Chapter 1

Shifters require near  _constant_  food.

It was one of the first things the Dread Doctors taught Theo as a kid. One of the most effective punishments they used.

Withhold food from a shifter - _any shifter, didn’t matter the breed, didn’t matter the mutt_  -and two things happen. Neither of them are good.

The first thing is that it becomes harder to control the animal; the part that wants to howl at the moon, search out a pack, rip and tear things to pieces. It becomes a constant struggle just to keep it at bay, to stop yourself from lashing out as your temper grows, as the beast inside makes its hunger known.

The second thing -and perhaps more importantly -is that you start to lose your healing. While most of the Chimeras don’t heal as fast as the purebreds to start, withhold food, and they heal - _or don’t heal, as it were_  -like regular humans.

Theo had relished his freedom, the first time the Doctors gave him ‘human parents’. They were scared enough -of both him, and the Doctors -that he’d been able to eat whenever he wanted; hell, some nights he’d woken them at three in the morning demanding food just because he could. After the hit-or-miss feeding the Doctors did, being able to eat when he wanted was something he’d abused.

Which probably makes his current situation worse.

He rolls over again, trying to get comfortable, rolled up sweatshirt under his head, huddled in his blanket, trying to ignore the growling of his stomach. It came down to food for him, or food for the truck, and while he knows that going hungry is a certain type of hell all in itself, he also knows he needs to keep the truck gassed for the next time a deputy finds him, and orders him to move -he has no doubt that Stilinski's given them orders to arrest him as quickly as they can, if he gives them a reason. And some of the deputies have eyeballed him in a way that makes Theo think he _really_ doesn't want them to ask him to get out of the truck.

That's also the reason why he doesn't dare turn the truck on for heat; as it is, he has less than a quarter tank, and he isn't in a hurry to go out and have to earn more. Not on an empty stomach, anyways.

At one point during his ‘schooling’ with the Doctors, they’d explained that his heightened metabolism - _like all shifters_ -requires three or four times more protein a day than a normal human, just for his body to function at an optimal efficiency; not peak, but optimal.

But after coming back from whatever hell the Skinwalkers had thrown him in, he's lucky if he manages to get a meal a day in -and even that's usually cheap fast food, high in calories, low in protein.

Money is hard to come by, after all, and unless he's willing to take up selling his dignity as a permanent career, it's something that isn't going to change any time soon.

With a groan, he rolls onto his back; while he can't stretch out fully, being on his back is a position he's used to, one that's become almost second nature after all the years he spent strapped down to a table while the Doctors used him as a living anatomy dummy.

He snorts a bit at that. Being on his back has never meant anything but sheer agony, and unbelievable pain… and yet, his body has been so conditioned, after years of experimentation, that he typically defaults back to it.  _The devil you_   _know_  sort of thing, probably.

He doesn't really like to think on it too much.

Being on his back _also_ means that he has a choice between leaving his feet uncovered, or letting the blanket hang, and allowing cold air in. Given that he isn't producing as much body heat to begin with, neither option is really appealing.

Lay on his back and freeze, or curl up, be agitated, and possibly still freeze. Fall in Northern Cali typically dropped the temperatures into the low forties to begin with, and since his body is already underperforming, hypothermia is definitely a very real possibility.

He growls as he finally curls up in as tight a ball as he can, trying to double up the blanket by making himself as small as possible, pulling the strings of his hoodie tighter around his face as he tucks his head down against his chest.

After three months of starving and freezing… he knows he’s hitting the end of his rope. He’s already lost enough weight that his hip bones jut out, that his once-skin-tight shirts hang off his frame, and the muscles that come naturally to shifters have faded away as his body literally began eating itself in an attempt for some sort of nourishment.

That isn't even getting into his hair-trigger temper. Sure, Theo has a temper at the best of times, but eight years under the Doctors’ knives have done a good job of teaching him how to keep it on a tight leash, and only show it when necessary.

But lately, he’s growing more and more sluggish, and snappish. Is snappish a word? If it is, it probably isn't an accurate description of how it seems like every little thing made him see red. How more and more, visions of him ripping out the throat of the girl who chews her gum to loudly, or the boy who won’t stop blaring his stupid music, are becoming a common occurrence.

Hell, lying in the backseat of his truck, curled up under a too-thin blanket, trying to ignore the growling of his stomach, he’s starting to dream about ripping out his  _own_  throat.

The solid tapping on his window pulls him from his thoughts, and he groans as he buries his head further into the blanket for a moment.

“Yeah, I know, I know, I’m goi-“

“Theo?”

Part of him wants to curl up and die right there. What the hell is Scott doing on this side of town, at three in the freaking morning? Theo purposefully makes sure to stay away from any potential routes the Alpha might take home from work, or a pack member’s house.

“Theo, what the hell are you doing?”

Unable to keep the growl from escaping, he slowly uncurls, reluctantly crawling out of the blanket, ignoring how stiff and sore his limbs are as he readjusts his makeshift bedroom so he can actually open the backdoor of the truck without everything falling out.

As he pulls himself out of the truck, struggling to keep a pained whine from his throat, he can’t quite bring himself to meet Scott’s eyes as he tries to find the nonchalant mask he’s perfected over the years.

 

* * *

 

Scott can only wait, part of him horrified, as Theo slowly pulls himself from the truck, his limbs moving lethargically, as if he can barely stand. The slight hitch of the Omega’s right leg as he closes the door behind him is enough to throw him off balance, although he nearly manages to hide it.

Silently, Scott watches as the look on Theo’s face goes from pain, to almost blank, to shame, and then back to blank again, before he finally speaks.

“Theo… Are you… living in your truck?” He asks quietly, despite the fact that he already knows the answer to his question.

“What if I am?”

The response lacks any of its usual bite, and the wolf-coyote hybrid won’t meet his eye.

“Why?”

“Why  _what_?” This time the sharp tone that’s become Theo is there, as the other boy seems to get his feet underneath him.

“ _Why_  are you living in your truck?”

Theo scoffs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Where else am I supposed to go? The people the Doctors scared into pretending to be my parents bolted the second I disappeared.”

For the first time, Scott notices the way Theo’s clothes hang off of him, the way he’s shivering lightly. While it’s chilly out, Scott is wearing nothing but a tee shirt, his werewolf metabolism keeping him warm. “So you’ve been living out of your truck?”

“When Stilinski doesn’t have me in a  _cell_ , yes, McCall, I’ve been living in my truck, okay?”

Scott draws back slightly at the venom in the words, the fact that Theo called him ‘McCall’ for the first time in months, before steeling himself.

Lydia, Liam, and Corey have all told him that Theo’s default to prying is to lash out. Hell, Liam -who has spent the most time with the Omega -has already warned Scott that it was Theo's default whenever it seemed like somebody might actually care.

So Scott bites back his sharp reply, the split-second urge to just walk away, and growls quietly, hoping that whatever the Dread Doctors had done to the Chimera, there was still enough basic wolf instinct there to react to the blatant display of dominance.

It takes about thirty seconds before Theo tilts his head to the side slightly, not quite barring his throat, but something close enough. Scott’s inner wolf releases a huff of air through his lips, content at the gesture, as Scott speaks, letting the edge of his wolf seep through his voice.

“Theo. Look at me.”

The Chimera does, his eyes a brilliant yellow, letting Scott know that wolf or coyote, Theo is barely holding the creature at bay.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Monday.” The answer is sharp, and biting; Theo doesn’t want to tell him, but no matter what anyone says about Theo not being a ‘real’ wolf, there’s still enough of one in there to understand pack hierarchy.

“Alright. Let’s go get something to eat. There’s a twenty-four hour diner about two blocks from here. I’m buying.”

“I said I’m fine,” Theo growls, not moving. “I don’t need your pity.”

Scott simply quirks one eyebrow. “It’s not ‘pity’, Theo; I’m not about to have a starving werewolf running around Beacon Hills. Let’s go.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Scott slides into the booth that he’s claimed as his, motioning for Theo to do the same, as he gives Miranda -the third shift waitress -a smile.

“Morning, Scott. What can I get for you?” She asks, drying a rack of dishes with a towel as she returns his smile.

“Not sure yet; give us a few minutes?”

She nods, and Scott turns his attention back to Theo, who is very busy looking like he’s trying to disappear in the cushions of the booth.

“You got something in mind, do you want a menu…?” Scott lets his voice trail off as he waits for an answer, only to have Theo glare at him from beneath his hoodie.

“I said I’m _fine_ , alright?”

Scott rolls his eyes as he pulls out his wallet. “I just got paid today, Theo, so it’s on me, alright? Whatever you want, just order _something_ ,” He stresses, catching the Chimera’s eye enough to show him that he’s not messing around. “I mean it, I’m not gonna have a half-starved shifter running around Beacon Hills this close to the full moon.”

He adds the last part in a quieter voice, as Miranda slides her way over to the table, giving both boys a big smile as she sets down two cups, and fills them with coffee.

“Well, Scott, what can I get for you boys? Oh, who’s your friend? Handsome fella, aren’t you?”

Scott smiles; Miranda is easily in her fifties or sixties, and flirts with everyone the same way his grandmother used to do, paying compliments in a way that would be creepy from anyone younger, but is sort of cute coming from somebody her age.

“Miranda, this is Theo. Theo, this is Miranda.”

It’s amazing, the transformation that comes over Theo even as Scott watches; the exhaustion seems to slide from his face, a twinkle in his eye as he gives Miranda a thousand-watt smile, turning the charm up to eleven as he leans closer towards her.

“Hmm… what would _you_ recommend, Miranda?” He asks, his voice carrying a small hint of good-natured mischief, and Scott reminds himself again that this - _this mask, this acting_ -is what makes Theo so dangerous, as Miranda beams back at him.

“Well, I have to say, I’m a _big_ fan of waffles and bacon; waffles are homemade, and we only get thick slices of bacon, with maple syrup straight from across the border,” She says with a wink.

“Sounds _perfect_ ,” Theo tells her, smiling, before he looks over at Scott expectantly, Miranda’s gaze following.

“Huh? Oh, right. Uh, I’ll have the usual; three pancakes, three eggs over hard, with the whole wheat toast and strawberry jelly,” He says after a moment.

Miranda grins. “Wheat toast, huh? Boy your age should be enjoying that metabolism you got; wheat toast is for old folks like me,” She says with a chuckle. “Alright, I’ll have it out shortly boys. Give me a holler if you need more coffee.”

“Thanks,” Theo says, his voice still all charm, right up until the moment Miranda turns her back; Scott watches as -almost as quickly as it came -the mask falls apart, leaving the Chimera looking even worse -something he hadn’t thought was possible when he’d stumbled on him sleeping in his truck. From the deep, almost bruised, bags under his eyes, to the little gap in his dried and cracks lips, as he stares almost blankly at the formica table, all of it just screams exhaustion.

“Theo… Why didn’t you _say_ something?” Scott asks quietly, leaning forward as he rests his arms on the table. “This is… dude, you look like _hell_ , man.”

Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes a bit as he leans back against the booth, folding his arms across his chest as he stretches out his legs, propping one up on the seat. “Gee, thanks. Just what a guy wants to hear on the first date.”

“Theo, I’m serious. You know you could’ve –“

“ ‘Could have’ _what_ , Scott? Come crawling to you, begging for money and a place to stay? Seriously?” Theo interrupts him, his voice angry as he glares across the table.

“Yeah, that’s _exactly_ what you could’ve done,” Scott says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “That’s exactly what pack _does_ ; if you need help, the pack helps you.”

“Oh yeah. ‘Cause it’s just that simple, huh. I’m pack, and pack helps.”

“Yes, Theo, it really is _that_ simple.” Scott can’t stop the ‘duh’ tone that goes along with the statement. Because, really, it is that simple to him, and he can’t grasp why it’s not to Theo.

“Scott, half the pack freaking _hates_ me, and the other half _tolerates_ me. Hell, even _you_ tolerate me. So forgive me for not running crying into your arms, begging for help, and playing the damsel in distress for you to save. I’ve always taken care of myself; I’ll figure something out, alright? I always do.”

“Um… obviously you’re _not_ though,” Scott can’t help but point out. “I mean… seriously, man, have you _looked_ in a mirror lately? How much weight have you lost? Thirty pounds? Forty?” When Theo ignores him, staring at the cook through the portioned wall, Scott lets some of his wolf’s dominance seep into his voice. “Theo.”

“What?” The other boy snaps.

“I asked how much weight you’ve lost.”

Theo holds his gaze for a few seconds, before ducking his head. “About sixty pounds,” He finally says, his voice quiet as he stares at his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. “Last time I checked, anyways.”

“Yeah. Obviously this ‘taking care of yourself’ thing is going great,” Scott says sarcastically. “Look… We’ll eat, you can come back to my place tonight –“

“Are you serious, your mom falls into the ‘ _freaking hates me’_ category!”

Scott ignores him as he continues, “ -and we’ll figure something more permanent out in the morning.” When Theo growls at him, Scott adds, “That’s not an offer, Theo; that’s a freaking _order_. You’re a part of this pack, whether you like it or not, hell, whether _anyone_ likes it; pack is like family: you might not always _like_ each other, but you take _care_ of each other.”

Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Well, I think we’ve both established that I don’t really do ‘pack’ well; it’s probably a good thing I didn’t manage to _actually_ kill you, ‘cause I would’ve been a terrible Alpha.”

Scott ignores the barb, resists the urge to say, ‘you _were_ a terrible Alpha’, as he shrugs. “Whether or not you ‘do it’ well isn’t the point. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Theo; I was serious when I said this isn’t an offer. You’re no good to anybody like this.”

“I’m no good to anybody anyways.”

It’s quiet; so quiet that even with his sense of hearing, Scott has to struggle to make out the words. But he feels a flash of sympathy course through him as he looks, really looks, at the boy sitting across from him.

Whether or not most people see it, Theo isn’t _actually_ a bad guy; oh sure, he was manipulative as hell, and he didn’t know the meaning of ‘gentle’, but -as they’re coming to realize -a lot of that was the result of spending half his life with the Dread Doctors. Because outside and away from their influence, he’d actually done a lot of good for the pack, with no thought for himself. He’s spent the last four months working with Liam on getting his anger under control, teaching Mason, Corey, Nolan, and Alec how to fight, always available to play bodyguard or backup, being a sounding board for Scott, Chris, and the Sheriff, and when it comes to Liam, he’s seemed to have taken the Beta under his protection, going ride-or-die to keep him safe.

Which has, in turn, balanced out a lot of Liam’s more impulsiveness -something’s making things easier on everyone, when they don’t have to worry about the young Beta diving head first into every situation.

“Theo… Look, I’m not really… _good_ … with this sort of thing, but we both _know_ that’s not true. Yeah, you’ve done a lot of bad stuff. Like… a _lot_ ,” Scott stresses. “But you’ve _more_ than made up for that the past few months. And we both know it. You might not think we’ve noticed, or you might not think it matters, but we have, and it does, okay? And yeah, you’re going through a rough patch… You’re on your own, and trying to figure things out –“

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been on my own,” Theo interrupts, his voice almost petulant, as if he’s arguing simply for the sake of arguing, and Scott rolls his eyes.

“Fine. The first time you’ve been alone without the Dread Doctors to back you up, or pay for things. And trust me, man, I get it: things change, and it’s scary as _hell_. But that’s what _we’re_ here for; that’s what pack _does_. You keep saying you don’t know how to be in a pack, well… let us show you, alright? It’s okay to ask for help. It doesn’t mean you’re _worthless_ , it just means that you need help.”

He almost misses the small shudder that starts at Theo’s neck, and runs down his shoulders, to the base of his spine, and has a flash of insight.

“Theo… Listen, man, you’re not a _failure_ ,” He says quietly, leaning forward. “You’re _not_ a failure, and the pack isn’t the Dread Doctors; just because you can’t make it on your own, because you can’t figure it all out on your own, doesn’t mean we’re going to cut you out. Unless you try to kill one of us again, or you start slaughtering people, we’re _not_ gonna kick you out because you need help, or you make mistakes. Because guess what? Needing help… it just means you need _help_ , man. It doesn’t mean you’ve ‘failed’ at anything.”

Theo ducks his head, his whole body shaking, and it takes Scott a moment to realize that Theo is crying. It’s quiet, not hysterical, or loud, or even obvious to anyone outside of the booth, but he’s crying as he seems to sort of collapse in on himself, the mask crumbling beneath the weight of Scott’s words.

Before he’s aware that he’s doing it, Scott is out of his seat, and sliding over next to Theo; he knows better than to initiate anything without the other boy giving him the go-ahead, but he sits there quietly, a steadying presence, as Theo seems to let out years worth of tears.

When Miranda comes over with the food, she picks up on the mood shift quickly, setting the food down quietly as she gives Theo -who still has his head down, buried in his hoodie -a sympathetic smile, patting Scott on the shoulder with a reassuring look before she walks away.

Scott sighs. It doesn't seem like he's doing anything, really; anyone else, Scott would’ve hugged, would’ve held their hand, or said something to make them feel better…

But, it’s Theo. The fact that he accepts Scott’s presence next to him is enough.

At least to start.


End file.
